


Skin and Bones

by wolver



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-26
Updated: 2012-04-26
Packaged: 2017-11-04 08:29:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/391827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolver/pseuds/wolver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This wasn’t nearly as easy as a couple of nights ago where he was still able to promise that they’d win this for Hoss, when that promise was still within reach and attainable - now, now all that was left was a <i>better luck next year, eh?</i> and how flimsy that was, how insincere, how fucking depressing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skin and Bones

**Author's Note:**

> set after game six. and i guess this can be a companion piece to [Nothing's Gonna Stop Us](http://archiveofourown.org/works/387255) since i kept it in mind while writing this, but no need to read it to understand.

It wasn’t a good night at all; with a glance at the clock it showed half-past two and counting, and Kaner was still wide awake and nowhere even close to falling asleep. His limbs were heavy and buzzed with a restlessness that had nothing to do with the alcohol he ingested earlier; this was a bone crushing tired feeling and he was exhausted beyond all belief, but sleep wasn’t coming - he was too tired to even fall asleep, imagine that. It was frustrating, but at least he wasn’t the only one; Johnny was checking the clock just as much as Kaner was, and he kept tossing and turning until he was wrapped up in the sheets, and Kaner was too tired to even bitch him out for that.

Turning his head to press his cheek against the pillow, his eyes settled on the dark form of Johnny taking up the other half of the bed, and Kaner blinked slowly and fought with the limited light of the alarm clock to make out his features. Even if he already knew what they’d look like: jaw tight and tense, his brow wrinkled and eyes almost forcefully shut as if he was trying to demand sleep to come - _he would_ , thought Kaner with a slight smile; Johnny had to try and control everything. The tenseness radiated off him in waves and Kaner knew that he himself wasn’t much better, either - no matter how many times they went through this it was never easy to say goodbye to the Cup, whether first round or last.

Slowly Kaner’s hand closed the space between them and curled loosely around Johnny’s wrist, his pulse warm and active underneath his fingertips.

“I hate the Coyotes,” Johnny suddenly whispered, his voice tense and furious in a way that was only shared between the two of them, away from the spotlight and away from the public relations shit about being a fucking gracious loser - which, fuck that, they had never lost in the first round before - and Johnny wasn’t the captain anymore, he was just Johnny, Kaner’s best friend and boyfriend, and honest and open with no need to filter his words, “fucking Mike Smith standing on his head like he’s a fucking godsend to hockey, fucking disgusting son of a bitch.”

Kaner’s grip carefully tightened in a silent agreement until he could almost feel the bones grinding together underneath the skin and it wasn’t enough, not after a night like their night, but he was at a loss as to what else he could do; this wasn’t nearly as easy as a couple of nights ago where he was still able to promise that they’d win this for Hoss, when that promise was still within reach and attainable - now, now all that was left was a _better luck next year, eh?_ and how flimsy that was, how insincere, how fucking depressing.

“I couldn’t score,” he whispered into the new silence. “I fucking couldn’t score.”

“Nobody could, Kaner. Hence the fucking shutout.” Johnny sighed.

Like that was supposed to be a fucking consolation, like that was supposed to make this magically okay.

Kaner thought about the locker room after the game, so thick and heavy with the disappointment that Kaner was drowning in it, to the point where he was all but clinging to Johnny’s side in need of an anchor.

He thought about how after media time, after showering, after changing, the guys broke off in small groups and disappeared out the door for the last time, post-game, until there were only a few stragglers - him and Johnny and-- and Crow, Kaner watched, who sat with his head buried in his hands and the line of his shoulders all wrong, looking the epitome of defeat, jesus. It was heartbreaking to see and Kaner had to go over to him, to hug Crow’s head against his stomach protectively; _you were great_ , he had whispered, _don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, not even yourself_ , and Crow had pressed his cheek into Kaner’s stomach for a moment of comfort, and maybe even of silent gratitude, before retreating back into that faraway look rooted deep in his eyes.

He thought about the way Johnny’s hand had rested on the small of his back as they were leaving the locker room, where anyone could see - if they had been around, at least, and even still it struck a chord in Kaner because even though they had lost Johnny remained, always a strong and solid presence behind him in all his awesome douchey-glory, and that reminder was all he needed to safely get them home.

He thought about the few beers they shared on the couch because the idea of going to a bar was unappealing, even if getting wasted sounded promising, though in all honestly it just sounded more of a hassle than anything else and for once Kaner wasn’t going to work up the nerve to bother. So instead they sat together, with the television silent and their phones turned off in a futile attempt at submerging themselves in their own world for just a little while.

Also, right now he thought that he pretty much needed to quit thinking, pronto; he needed to be distracted.

Instead of pulling away like Kaner had at first figured - he was holding Johnny’s wrist in a death grip after all, and he only had so much tolerance for those kinds of things; surely his hand was numb by now? - Johnny rolled onto his side and scooted closer, eliminating most of the space between the two of them so now the gap was a reasonable couple of inches as opposed to the Grand Canyon-esque jagged crack of before. There were the soft puffs of Johnny’s breathing against his shoulder and even this, the smallest of intimacies, made Kaner's heart rate pick up and his pulse flutter; he was uncomfortable in his own skin: it felt too small to encompass his body, too tight and too itchy, and he was turned on and devastated at the same time in only a way that Johnny could orchestrate in such a small amount of time.

“We should have sex,” Kaner blurted out.

There wasn’t any response in what was considered a reasonable time frame for social norms and all that - had no one ever taught Johnny these rules, what a shame that was, and he wondered who was to blame because maybe it was his fault, he was failing his bestest friends forever duty or whatever and why was he even worried about this right now-- and oh, now Johnny was climbing on top of him, stretching out so his body was fitted along the length of Kaner’s, and he was heavy, but heavy in a good way, not suffocating.

Kaner cupped his hands around the sides of Johnny’s neck, his thumbs end up idly stroking along his rough jaw - aware in a too-sensitive way that soon it’d be gone.

“This isn’t really an ideal time for sex,” Johnny murmured, like he was still in denial about admitting that Kaner made some sense every so often; Kaner was pretty sure it wasn’t in fear of admitting some sappy devout feelings or some such, but more because he always tried to one up Kaner like the annoying dickhead that he was - stubborn and competitive, and Johnny would always try to act superior in all things ever, and Kaner just loved him impossibly for it, he was not ashamed.

Besides, there was no hiding the hard line of Johnny’s cock that was snug against his hip, either.

“Right. Then you have a boner for losing, what a fucking weirdo.”

Johnny growled, quiet and deep in the back of his throat, and that was hotter than it ever had any right to be, seriously, and Kaner wasn’t embarrassed at the way his hips jerked up in response, already seeking friction against his cock through the many layers they were wearing, or at least felt like they were in full parka garb for an expedition in the fucking South Pole of Canada, jesus-- but then Johnny was grinding his hips down in search of his own friction and suddenly all Kaner wanted to do was fuck Johnny until he couldn’t fucking see straight, let alone think straight.

(Not that there was much straightness in this room, anyway.)

Leaning up, he captured Johnny’s lips in a kiss, pressing his thumbs into the hinge of Johnny’s jaw until he relaxed and Kaner was licking into his mouth, tasting his teeth, his tongue, and hours old beer - all tasting so Johnny and so exactly what he needed right now. One of his hands trailed down to cup Johnny’s shoulder, his thumb pressing down into his collar bone hard enough to grab his attention, but light enough as to not actually hurt, not really, not yet.

“Let me fuck you,” he whispered in a low and demanding voice; and it wasn’t every day that Johnny willingly submitted to him, lying open and easy and eager underneath him, so it ended up most of the time with Kaner on his back - which he totally was not complaining about, just to clarify this - but there were times, albeit once in a blue moon usually, where Johnny easily handed the reins over without second thought, and if he was reading this right, then maybe, just maybe--

_There_ , there it was: Johnny whimpered into his mouth in response, a sudden high and needy sound that was doing wonders for Kaner - wow, how hot was that - and Johnny’s body almost immediately went lax and that was answer enough right there, no words were necessary.

So Kaner shifted until he could brace himself enough to roll them over until Johnny was stretched out on his back - the small hitch of Johnny’s breath did not go unnoticed, oh no, and Kaner bit at Johnny’s bottom lip as he continued to rock their hips together - and taking in a deep breath of his own, Kaner leaned down to knock their foreheads together, nudging their noses affectionately.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” and it was quiet, borderline reluctant, but sure all the same.

Because-- because Kaner wanted to make sure; the last thing he wanted to do was make the night worse by coercing Johnny into something he really didn’t want to do (because he could be wrong-- rare but known to happen in extreme cases), but then again this was Johnny they were talking about, he was adamant about refusing what he didn’t want. So good, that was good, and with a dip of his head he found Johnny’s mouth again, rough and demanding, kissing him with a shade of desperation bordering nearly overwhelming, but this was what Johnny was here for, this was what they both needed: Johnny needed to give up control and Kaner needed to take it.

Halfway through trailing playful bites down Johnny’s neck and chest Kaner paused and looked up at him.

Just-- he had to see this; the faint light from the alarm clock wasn’t nearly enough and Kaner leaned over to flip on the lamp because he wanted to see as well as touch - Johnny groaned and turned his head away, squeezing his eyes shut, and grumbled, “turn off the fucking light, Kaner.”

There was no chance of that happening because when Kaner’s gaze adjusted it narrowed in on Johnny’s mouth, and his lips were red and shiny with spit, obscene and fucking gorgeous and no, the light was here to stay.

So maybe the light wasn’t going anywhere, but this stupid sheet certainly was because somehow, beyond all Kaner’s extreme reaches of intelligence, he was completely baffled as to why this was still around and not wadded up on the floor - then again, they were also in their underwear and that was even more stupid - so he found a loose end and yanked until he unwrapped it. To kill two birds with one stone Kaner also tugged down Johnny’s boxer briefs, his own quickly following into the pile of discarded fabric.

His mouth ended up on Johnny’s hip with Johnny’s hand cupping the back of his head securely (and his newly short hair: _what the fuck am I supposed to pull now, you asshole?_ ) and he brushed his lips along the curved bone and sucked and licked at the thin skin - easily his favorite part of Johnny’s body, though closely followed by his thighs, and well, he couldn’t forget his ass, or his cock, and okay yeah, he was quite possibly biased for the entire thing. While he kissed and used his teeth to mar Johnny’s smooth skin, his fingers curled around the length of Johnny’s cock and he pumped a few times but he was sure he could find better uses for his hand.

With slicked up fingers, he slipped in one and then two, marveling at how tight Johnny was and how great that was going to feel around his cock, which twitched in anticipation - two fingers were followed by three, and Kaner was watching the way that Johnny was coming unraveled by his fingers, the way he squirmed and arched his back to force them deeper until he was all but trembling in pent up desire and just-- how was he going to look when he was on Kaner’s cock?

“Kaner, come on,” Johnny groaned, cheek pressed against the pillow and his eyes tightly closed. “I’m ready, do it.”

“Nope, sorry, baby boo. I’m callin’ all the shots here and I’m gonna fuck you when I’m good and ready.”

Looking up, Kaner caught sight of the flush that crept down Johnny’s neck and bloomed across his chest, and with his eyes he followed the trail of visibly heated skin littered with fading bitemarks; then having a sudden possessive urge that made him want to turn caveman-like and growl at the next person that even looked at Johnny because fuck that, this was all his and he wasn’t going to share, Kaner bit down on his lip and ended up stupidly staring for a moment.

“You’re staring,” Johnny gritted out and kneed him in the side.

“Fuck you, I am not staring at your ugly face, and how would you even know? Your eyes are closed!” Kaner protested.

“You act like we haven’t been fucking for years,” and with that Johnny’s lips curled in a knowing smirk, that smug bastard.

“Hmm,” he hummed, noncommittally (this was true, of course, but Kaner wasn’t backing down about how creepy Johnny still was), and he licked a stripe across Johnny’s stomach before roughly biting down on the skin without warning - Kaner could feel the way that his muscles quivered, tensing whenever he paid attention to them, and with the way that Johnny was so responsive it never got old teasing him.

But enough teasing for now - he was sure if he drew this out any longer Johnny might possibly kick him in the nuts because he had the patience the size of a fucking flea - his fingers slipped out, much to Johnny’s obvious vocal disappointment, and Kaner distractedly patted his thigh because don’t worry, he was going to take care of him, just like he always did. Grabbing the lube one last time he slicked up and settled between Johnny’s parted thighs; then, lined up with the head of his cock pressed against Johnny’s entrance, he said, “tell me what you want,” because he was clearly a masochist.

“Goddamn it, Kaner, it’s too late for this shit, either do it or go the fuck away.” Johnny blew out a breath in exasperation, like it was such a hardship to prepare having his world rocked in a few moments, and he squirmed like he was trying to push him away, but Kaner knew better, knew how terrible Johnny was at giving up control sometimes - unfortunately for him, though, this was why Kaner was around: to push at his boundaries.

“Nope! Tell me, Johnny, or I can’t give it to you and I _reaaaally_ want to give it to you,” he replied with a smirk and pushed his hips forward ever so slightly.

Face burning, Johnny pressed a cheek against the pillow and muttered in a rough voice, “fuck me. I want you to fuck me, alright,” sounding uncomfortable yet turned on, delirious and wanton, and god, Kaner wanted to keep him like this _always_.

That was all the encouragement that he needed; lacking his usual finesse, he pushed in, jerky, overzealous, and probably way too fast seeing as how it had been awhile since Johnny had last taken Kaner’s cock and he just, he was going to assume that if Johnny wasn’t telling him to slow down then this was exactly what he wanted, too; Johnny’s nails were digging into Kaner’s biceps and his head was thrown back against the pillow, panting audibly, and Kaner fucking-- felt a plethora of stupid feelings for him that were borderline overwhelming and he tucked his face in Johnny’s neck.

“Johnny,” Kaner breathed, with one of his hands gripping Johnny’s hip so tightly he’d surely leave bruises and he thrusted hard, into the impossible snug heat of Johnny’s willing body.

His mouth attached to Johnny’s neck as Johnny moaned underneath him, his back arching like he was trying to force Kaner in deeper, and sucking on the heated skin of Johnny’s neck the idea of leaving a mark briefly flashed to the front of his mind - how annoyed Johnny would be, how they’d need to cover it up with makeup for press day and Kaner almost cackled with glee because sometimes he was a genius, but instead sucked harder to draw the skin red and blotchy.

“Ugh,” Johnny groaned out, wrapping his arms around Kaner’s shoulders to keep him close, completely belying his words, “quit giving me a hickey.”

Reluctantly he pulled away from his artwork, there was already a nice bright red spot that Johnny would just love, Kaner attacked Johnny’s mouth this time, kissing him until he needed to breathe and only then pulling away enough to bite at his flushed lower lip; one of Johnny’s hands cupped the back of his head, his fingers tapping lightly to grab Kaner’s attention and Kaner managed to lean back enough to meet his heavy gaze - and how fucking perfect he looked right now, with his red mouth parted as he gasped for air, his eyes hooded with a look that could take Kaner apart in seconds-- and, what?

“What?” He asked aloud.

Johnny grinned up at him, open and amused and fond and turned on, all the same fucking time, what an overload of awesome, and he repeated, mumbled, groaned, “make me come, Pat, m’close,” his hand pried Kaner’s from his hip and guided it over to his leaking cock - Kaner squeezed the heated flesh and stroked him, digging his knees into the bed more to fuck Johnny even harder and it wasn’t long before Johnny’s body was locking up, so fucking tight around his cock, and Kaner watched in fascination the way Johnny’s come splattered their chests, the way it dripped down his knuckles.

Then Johnny was tugging Kaner’s hand to his mouth, and with wide eyes Kaner watched as he slowly and deliberately licked the come from his fingers; the second he met Johnny’s wild, dark eyes Kaner was pushed right over his own edge, hips stuttering as he rode out his orgasm.

Exhausted, he dropped in an ungraceful heap on top of Johnny.

“You killed me,” Kaner groaned, his face smashed awkwardly into Johnny’s shoulder.

There were a few lazy pats to his head and Kaner decided that Johnny was the absolute _worst_ , when he wasn’t being the absolute _best_ , at least, and right now he was probably both and that made shit all sense, but whatever, Kaner felt great, completely exhausted, but in a good way and all thoughts about the loss were pretty distant so, success, the night was a whole lot better. Sometimes he really was a genius, too bad Johnny would never admit it.

Grabbing an edge of the discarded sheet, Johnny tried to wipe off the worst of the mess on their chests, and well, speaking of--

Shifting so his softening cock could slip out, Kaner traced his finger over the loose muscle before dipping it inside to swirl around his come, drawing a quiet noise from Johnny but no actual protest - no matter how many times they fucked without a condom he’d be forever obsessed with the feel of Johnny’s come leaking out of him, or in this case his come leaking out of Johnny, and it was easily one of Kaner’s favorite things ever-- well, along with everything else Johnny, anyway. He had a lot of favorite things.

“Having fun?”

“Mm,” he nodded, “I like watching my come drip out of you.”

And Johnny blushed - his cheeks turned red like a fucking schoolgirl and Kaner was going to rib him about this for months, this was classic teasing material - so now Kaner was pretty sure his life was complete; he tried to playfully scoff at him, but it ended up being more of a half-snort more than anything else because he was grinning way too hard in glee, “now you’re the one acting like we’ve never done this before, stop acting like a blushing virgin. Though, if you want to roleplay and pretend to be one I’d be down with that. I can be the dashing gent who--”

“Shut the fuck up, Kaner,” and before Kaner had a chance to react - he was blaming his slow reflexes on the sex, for the record - Johnny had him in a headlock; he flailed for a moment in surprise but then was trying to squirm his way out of it for a chance to pin Johnny to the bed again, but seeing as Kaner was terrible at all things wrestling he never ended up getting the upperhand and there ended up being more flailing until Johnny finally relented like the magnanimous person he only pretended to be to piss Kaner off.

“Asshole,” he panted.

This was going to be a long night, and technically it was already, but as seeing neither of them really acted like they were about to hunker down and sleep, well, it was going to be even longer than originally planned; neither of them tended to be the type to nod right off after sex, and with Johnny curling back into his side, with his fingers tucked in against Kaner’s ribs, Kaner had no plans about sleeping anytime soon; his hand tangled in Johnny’s hair and his thumb idly stroked over his brow.

And at least this was ten times better than earlier, the mood considerably lighter and less worrying on Kaner’s part that Johnny was going to take a knife to an innocent bystander, so it was a win-win situation.

“Hey Tazer.”

“Yeah, buddy?”

“We should open that good bottle of wine,” Kaner suggested and traced his fingers down along Johnny’s cheek, following the curve of his jaw and back; why not make it a party? “Watch some terrible late night cable, yeah? Could probably find a stupid monster movie on Syfy.”

“There’s not much to celebrate,” Johnny replied with a rueful twist of his lips.

“Fuck that,” Kaner shook his head. “We can get a head start on celebrating for next year. C’mon, I’ll hold your hand if you get scared.”

Johnny shook his head, with a quiet smile and soft eyes, and replied fondly, “you’ll hold it anyway.”


End file.
